


Chocolate Kisses

by sadieb798



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anniversary, Bad Cooking, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes is not good at cooking, Bucky tries, Chocolate, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Fluffy schmoop, Idiots in Love, Kisses, Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Schmoop, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, he really does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-25 21:52:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadieb798/pseuds/sadieb798
Summary: Bucky's well crafted plan of proposing to Tony, like the lemon chicken, go up in smoke.





	Chocolate Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to the WinterIron discord - bunch of enabling hooligans, the lot of ya!
> 
> If all goes according to plan, this will be my last fic for 2018. Good riddance. Here's to reading more content in the new year!

Bucky Barnes is not known for his cooking skills.

When they were living on their own during the Depression, Steve did the bulk of the cooking while Bucky was out working. Even now, living seventy-odd years in the future, residing in a towerful of superheroes with big stomachs, takeout places that are practically on call 24/7, a multi-billionaire to foot the bill, who also cooks in his downtime and is Bucky’s boyfriend full-time, Bucky _still_ doesn’t do his own cooking.

Which is just fine with him because Julia Child, he is not.

Sure, there have been _attempts_ , but even _calling_ them that is generous. They all either ended in food poisoning, evacuating the entire tower, the fire department paying a visit, and that one time with the blue chicken soup. So Bucky’s been more than happy to never go anywhere near a spatula.

But today is different. Because Bucky has had this whole day planned out since his and Tony’s third date; he’s just been sharpening the finer points for the three years that they’ve been together. Today is Valentine’s Day, with the extra bonus of being their anniversary, and originally his boyfriend wanted to play hooky from SI and spend the entire day with Bucky. Fortunately through some finagling on Bucky's part, Tony’s entire day is booked solid with back-to-back meetings (thank you Darcy Lewis, best assistant ever) so that leaves Bucky with plenty of time to put his plan into action.

He's gonna make the easiest of Tony’s favorite meals - lemon chicken with string beans - and dessert: chocolate cake from _scratch,_ courtesy of Mama Rhodes. Bucky will model their dining table after the fanciest one he’s got on his secret Pinterest board. Then he’ll light some candles, have Friday set the mood music and lighting to the exact specifications that they’ve both meticulously gone over in secret for the past year and a half. And then, when they’ve finished their meals and only have dessert left, the sun will have set, leaving candles the only thing lighting the penthouse, Bucky will pull out the ring and finally pop the question.

It will all be perfect.

* * *

The chicken is _burnt._

The entire kitchen smells like charcoal, and the chicken has been burned beyond recognition. Friday, being the best pal ever, starts airing out the penthouse before the tower has to be evacuated _again._ The vegetables are _limp,_ unsalvageable even though he’s been cooking them for - God, he doesn’t even _remember_ how long he’d been cooking them, maybe that’s the problem.

At least, Bucky assures himself, he still has dessert.

He shakes the bag of cocoa powder into his bowl of concoctions, spilling some of the milk chocolate powder onto the marble countertops. Then he immediately takes up the bowl and whisk he’d set aside.

“Friday,” he starts, sweating like a pig as he plunges the whisk into the ingredients and starts whisking clockwise. “How much time do I have?”

“Twenty minutes,” Friday admits with a wince that Bucky can practically hear.

“That should be plenty of time to bake a cake, right, Fri?” he asks desperately, not letting up on his whisking.

Friday gives a thoughtful, but concerned, hum. He whisks faster.

“Shall I call the Thai place on Fifth, sir?” Friday asks, her usually confident voice tentative.

“Uh,” Bucky stammers, his brain feeling like a car engine stalling; like this huge mental block is stopping even the smallest thought from going through his brain. Except now he’s whisking too hard, and the chocolate he’d been preparing spills out of the bowl and onto the floor.

“Oh no!” he exclaims, heart thudding in his chest. Panicking, he stops whisking, and steps forward to grab a paper towel, but he feels that the floor underneath him isn’t steady. Suddenly he’s going down, falling backwards: him, the whisk and the bowl, all going down.

He tries to stop himself; to grab onto the counter to keep himself upright. Except he mis-times it and instead of his left hand latching onto the marble, his elbow bangs into it as he’s falling, sending a lightning bolt of pain rushing up his arm that makes his breath catch in his throat. Super soldier or not, that shit _hurts._

Bucky slams _hard_ down onto the floor, so hard he feels his teeth rattle, and he can’t help reaching over his torso to clutch at his left elbow with his right hand.

“Fuck,” he hisses, gritting his teeth, repressing the urge to lie in the fetal position on the tiled floor.

That’s when the bowl of chocolate lands face-down onto this lap. It’s cold, a shock at first, and Bucky watches as the dark confection drips down to gather between his thighs, and pool on the floor to join the puddle underneath his ass.

Frustration wells up inside of him, nearly choking him. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that’ll make the mess go away, and to keep him from destroying everything around him. His elbow hurts, his ass aches, the dinner’s _ruined,_ and the kitchen’s a goddamn mess.

Tears spring up in Bucky’s eyes and he curls inwards on himself, letting them fall.

“Bucky?” Tony’s voice says in the otherwise quiet penthouse, and Bucky whips his head up.

Tony’s standing in front of him, far enough away from the chocolatey mess on the floor to give Bucky room to breathe. His boyfriend’s still dressed in the deep blue suit he’d left in early this morning, but the suit’s jacket is draped over one arm. The red tie that matches the star Bucky has painted on his left shoulder usually makes him swim in warm tingly feelings, but right now the sight of it makes him want to curl up into a ball.

“Are you okay?” Tony probes, his forehead pinched with worry, warm honey-brown eyes staring down at Bucky with concern, and a small frown on his delectable lips.

Bucky sniffles, letting the failure of what he’d done wash over him. He rubs at his dribbling nose with the back of his right hand.

“Hi honey,” he croaks. “Welcome home.”

“What happened?” Tony asks, kneeling down into the chocolate. Bucky flinches at the sight of dark brown chocolate seeping into the knees of Tony's deep blue pants, effectively ruining them. His boyfriend might not care or even think twice about ruining an expensive suit, but Bucky does.

If anything, it just makes him feel _worse._

“I-I wanted to make you dinner,” Bucky admits, and tears start streaming down his face. He tries to take a deep breath to calm himself down so he can talk to his boyfriend like a grown-ass adult - but it’s like a faucet that’s sprung a leak: his breaths only come in big hitching gasps, and Bucky’s lungs feel like a bellows. “A-as a surprise. B-but the chicken burned, an’, an’ the vegetables are _limp -_ ”

As Bucky's breakdown continues, he can hear his voice rising into hysterics and he starts feeling like a big ol' blubbering mess.

“ - and I was tryin’ to m-make you a cake - but I spilled _chocolate_ everywhere! And I wanted it to be perfect for when you got home! I was gonna light candles! And it was gonna be romantic goddamnit and _perfect!”_

Bucky hides his face in his hands, openly sobbing now, his shoulders wracking with the tears. He feels his boyfriend’s hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles that slowly ease the tension from Bucky’s spine.

“You can still light the candles,” Tony points out softly, his hand continuing to rub circles.

“At this point I'll burn the place down!” Bucky cries, his face wet with tears.

“It’s okay, sunshine,” Tony soothes, his body pressing up against Bucky’s until there’s a line of heat to contrast the cold chocolate. “You didn’t need to go to all this trouble for me - ”

“But I _wanted_ to,” Bucky whines, trying to mop up his tears and take a breath. “I _wanted_ to give you the best Valentine’s Day-slash-anniversary dinner you’ve ever had!”

“And I _love_ that you wanted to do that for me,” Tony assures, his voice gentle and soothing, like a balm to a burn. “The fact that you even wanted to makes all the difference, sunshine, and that makes me so _so_ happy, you have no idea.”

Tony wraps one arm around Bucky and pulls him close until his head is resting on his boyfriend’s chest. Bucky resists the urge to wrap his arms around Tony’s waist - he doesn’t care _how_ messy it is already, he doesn’t wanna make it worse. But then Bucky feels a soft pressure against his temple, and he closes his eyes with a sigh; all his tension draining away with the kiss.

After a little while, Tony pulls his lips away, but keeps his arm wrapped securely around Bucky’s shoulders. He doesn’t go far, instead Tony dips his face closer to Bucky’s; his breath ghosting along his earlobe.

“Every day with you is Valentine’s Day and our anniversary,” Tony whispers, and Bucky wants to melt on the floor with how perfect his boyfriend is. He can’t believe his luck - here he is: sitting on the mess of a kitchen floor, a laundry list of failures piled on top of his back, and just when he thought he couldn’t love Tony any more, he comes in and just...brightens up his day. Tony calls him sunshine, but it’s really the other way around.

“God, you are so sappy,” Bucky mock-complains, snorting in disgust, but his mood has brightened considerably. Against his cheek, he feels his boyfriend’s lips curl up into a smile.

Bucky pulls away, and then twists to look at his boyfriend. Tony’s eyes are lit up with affection, a soft smile on his lips, and his body’s completely lax against his side.

“I love you, my sunshine baby,” Tony tells him matter-of-factly. Bucky’s insides glow, lighting up like the Christmas tree at Rockefeller. His toes curl in their shoes, and he can feel the residual warmth spread all throughout his body, making its way up to his face.

“I love you too,” he replies, smacking a quick wet kiss on his boyfriend’s tantalizing lips, the bristles of Tony’s Van Dyke brushing against Bucky’s cheek.

When he pulls away, Tony’s still smacking his lips, and his eyes are lighting up with something new but familiar.

“Bright side to all this?” he says with a purr, the arm he’d had draped over Bucky’s shoulders starts slinking downwards to curl around his midsection. “We found something you can actually make.”

Bucky feels his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Oh yeah?” he asks, surprised.

Tony nods. “Oh yeah,” he answers, and Bucky can see a low heat of arousal glowing like embers in his eyes. “Clean-up is gonna be _fun.”_

Bucky snorts, laughter bubbling up his throat, the heat in his face starting up again. “Yeah, I don’t know about that,” he replies, gently nudging Tony’s stomach.

Tony gives him a put-upon sigh. “Fine,” he replies, his tone making Bucky’s lips curl in a smile. “You stay here, I’ll get paper towels.”

Tony puts both hands on Bucky’s shoulders and slowly levers himself up until he’s standing on two feet. Bucky puts his hands on his boyfriend’s hips, keeping him steady while he waits for him to get the roll of paper towels they keep on the counter. Once he feels a gentle tap on his head, Bucky helps lower Tony back down onto the floor, and together they start mopping up the chocolate mess. Bucky can’t help the grimace he feels on his face as he swipes at the dark brown pool between his legs, mourning the loss of the confection.

“Don’t mope,” Tony says, and damn he knows him so well.

“But all this chocolate,” he replies on a whine. “It’s gone to waste.” He watches as Tony continues cleaning, his face scrunched with concentration that he’s directing at the chocolate spillage.

“Don’t take a shower,” Tony replies with an easy shrug and Bucky can’t help the surprised laugh that spills out of his mouth.

But then he doesn’t stop. He cracks up until he’s crying, his sides hurting with how hard he’s laughing. _God I love this dumbass!_ Bucky can’t help thinking.

When he feels his laughter morph into giggles, Bucky opens his eyes, and his giggles die completely. Tony’s staring, all that concentration Bucky had seen directed at the chocolate now aimed at him. His boyfriend’s eyes are molten, glowing despite the sky darkening outside, his expression soft with affection, and a quirk in the corner of his lips. Having all of Tony Stark’s patented attention makes Bucky’s head swim.

Then before he's even aware of it happening, Tony’s hand reaches out for Bucky’s. He flicks his eyes down to watch as the thick chocolate makes their hands stick together before Bucky drags his gaze back up, and meeting the warmth of love waiting for him there.

"James, will you marry me?" Tony asks, his voice coming out steady and strong.

Bucky's eyes grow, his breath stolen from his lungs, and his heart skipping a beat. _I can’t believe it,_ his brain screeches. Happiness wells up in his chest, and just as Bucky’s opening his mouth to reply, he watches as Tony’s face pales with panic. If this were a panel from the funnies, Bucky would’ve seen sweat droplets spraying off his boyfriend’s face like a hose.

“I don't, like, _actually_ have a ring yet,” Tony admits, and when Bucky opens his mouth again, he’s cut off by Tony’s infamous rambling. “But I can have Happy go get one! No, wait, I mean -”

Bucky decides to take pity on him. He presses a finger to Tony’s lips, effectively silencing him. “Tony, it’s okay,” he replies, lowering his finger. With his other hand, Bucky reaches into his pocket and pulls the silver ring out. He holds it out to Tony’s astonished face. “I got one already.”

He watches as Tony blinks at him, his long dark eyelashes sweeping across his golden cheeks and his mouth hanging open in an _O._ Bucky can’t help the smile spreading across his face.

“Tony - ” he begins.

“Yes!” Tony ends, throwing himself at Bucky, making them both fall on the chocolate mess until they’re both laying on the floor, expensive suit be damned. Tony's entire weight is pressed down on top of him, the genius's right hand planted on the side of Bucky’s head, and the other resting on his chest.

“Yes! Absolutely!” Tony exclaims, his eyes shining brightly.

Bucky grins back up at him, butterflies fluttering around inside his chest as he slides the once pristine ring onto his boyfriend's - _fiancé’s -_ finger. Tony raises his hand up, gazing at the new piece of jewelry with adoration, his smile soft, and Bucky wants to cry with how perfect this is. His newly minted _fiancé_ leans down, and Bucky meets him halfway: their lips pressing together firmly. Bucky reaches up with his left hand, running it through Tony’s carefully sculpted hair, while his other one strokes up to grip at the back of Tony’s shirt to pull him closer, vowing never to let him go.

Tony was right: the chocolate tastes delicious.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading everybody, and have a Happy New Year!


End file.
